Yet Another Point of View
by IWantToBeAMalfoy
Summary: Philosopher's Stone from Draco Malfoy's perspective.
1. Disclaimer

Just realised that after posting the first chapter, I'd forgotten to put a disclaimer, so here it is:

**I do _not_ own anything to do with the Harry Potter books or films – well, I own the books and films, of course, but I don't own the rights. I also own some nice, shiny Draco Malfoy stickers, but that's neither here nor there :P**

So there we go. Please do enjoy the rest of the fic! Oh, and I swear I'm not as pretentious as that disclaimer made me out to be…  
:S  
.x.Sess.x.


	2. Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

**Author's note: **Not that anyone was reading it before, but I've decided to restart this fic. Chapter 1 will now be chapter 3 or 4. Philsopher's/Sorceror's Stone from Draco Malfoy's PoV - enjoy!

**Chapter 1  
****The Boy Who Lived**

Mr and Mrs Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, were proud to say that they were entirely pureblood, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything half-breed or muggle because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.  
Lucius Malfoy worked at the Ministry of Magic, donating generous amounts of money whenever he had the odd thousand lying around, and helping out in the Department of the Management of the Dark Arts. He was a tall, thin man with ice-blond hair that fell to just past his shoulders. His wife, Narcissa, was very slim with wispy blonde hair that hung to her waist. And, as of the fifth of June, the Malfoys had a small son called Draco, and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.  
The Malfoys had everything they wanted: a mansion with servants and house-elves; a long and rich history of Slytherins; and, most importantly, a young boy to mould to their image. He would be raised as far away from muggle influence as possible. Not that it wouldn't be difficult; the Ministry seemed to think that learning about muggles and their ways was important enough to be taught at the magical schools, and to have a department at the Ministry itself. Despite this interference, Mr and Mrs Malfoy were convinced that muggles and mudbloods were the disease that continued to spread across the earth, and they didn't want Draco mixing with people like that.

When Mr and Mrs Malfoy woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. However, Lucius and Narcissa knew better. There had been a reason why Lucius had arrived home so late the previous evening; why Narcissa had been so anxious for the last fortnight; why, despite the Malfoys' protests, the barrier between the magical world and the muggle world would so very nearly be broken. They tried very hard to act as though it was a normal Tuesday morning, though they knew that someone was bound to come knocking on their door eventually. They ignored the owls whizzing around the place in broad daylight en masse, and didn't answer the door to the numerous witches and wizards who had gathered at there, instead focusing on the nasty virus Draco had seemed to pick up.  
Their preoccupation with their son's illness distracted them from the cries that surrounded them.  
"The Potters? No!"  
"Yes, dead! It was You-Know-Who!"  
"What about the boy? I heard that he…"  
"No, he was spared."  
"Why?"  
"No one knows."  
Lucius knew. But he wasn't about to tell anyone. Not even his wife and son. The Dark Lord had made him vow secrecy, and he had gladly obliged.

* * *

"No!"  
The only word Draco knew. And he just kept on saying it.  
"No! No! Nooo!"  
His nanny struggled helplessly with him, trying unsuccessfully to force him into his cot.  
"Come now, Master Malfoy," she hushed frantically, "It is night-time; a time to go to sleep."  
"NO!"  
Draco kicked and squirmed for all he was worth. He knew that if he could just hold off from going to bed for a few more minutes…  
"What on _earth_ is going on in here?" his mother said in a sharp whisper, swinging the door open.  
"Oh, er, I'm very sorry, ma'am, I really am very sorry" the nanny apologised fervently, "The young master seems a tad restless tonight."  
She punctuated with a nervous laugh as Narcissa swept past – sparing only a fleeting, cold glance – and took her son. He immediately stopped struggling and snuggled into his mother's chest.  
"There, there, Dracie," she cooed, then turned to the nanny, "See? Not restless at all. I think you are slacking, Miss…Miss…whatever your name is."  
Draco hugged his mother's neck with his spindly arms.  
"Aww, there we go," Narcissa said lovingly, rocking him, "Are you feeling better now, my love?"  
Draco gurgled affirmatively and was placed back in his crib where he curled up into a ball.  
"You," Narcissa said firmly to the nanny, "Out! You clearly cannot do your job – you're fired!"  
"F-fired…?"  
"OUT!"  
The nanny left wordlessly; she knew what could happen if you got on the wrong side of a Malfoy.

* * *

"Fired?" Lucius roared, "I thought I told you that I must have a say in these matters?"  
"But she was tormenting our son!" Narcissa said, sitting upright in her chair, her glass of wine resting dangerously lop-sided on her lap, "Or maybe you just don't consider him your son…"  
"How dare you! My sole concern has always been, and will always be, the welfare of Draco."  
"Unless you're out gallivanting on one of your precious Death Eater missions," Narcissa mumbled. Lucius grabbed her arm and dragged her out of her chair, swinging her very close to the roaring fire.  
"You know how vengeful the Dark Lord is," he hissed, "Remember: if I were to fail or disobey his orders, both you and Draco would be at risk."  
He lowered her back into her chair, her eyes resolutely gleaming up at his, "We're already at risk, Lucius, after what happened to the Potters."  
"At risk from who, Cissy? The Ministry?" he gave a small laugh, "They couldn't threaten me if they tried – they owe me too much."  
He ran a hand over her hair roughly and kissed her firmly on her forehead.  
"You and our son," he said gently, with a slight emphasis on 'our son', "are perfectly safe as long as I'm around."  
He turned to go to bed.  
"So you won't send him to Durmstrang, then," she said very quickly, her head bowed.  
Lucius turned slowly, "Durmstrang houses and educates the finest wizards. Why on earth would you-?"  
"Please, Lucius!" Narcissa begged, "Hogwarts is so much closer!"  
"Hogwarts?" he spat, as though it was the name of a particularly nasty disease. He appeared to consider for a moment, then slowly nodded, "OK, my princess. Whatever you so desire."  
He smiled and went to bed, imagining the look on the Dark Lord's face when he told him he had a direct contact to Albus Dumbledore himself. 


	3. Chapter 2: The Vanishing Glass

**Author's note: **I've decided to make all the chapter names the same as the book, which will make a challenge for me to be faithful to each chapter name. I think I can do it…but I may ask for help in later chapters…R&R please!

**Chapter 2  
****The Vanishing Glass**

Draco perused the articles in the Daily Prophet, stirring his almost-cold tea absentmindedly, knowing full well that as soon as his father left the room, he'd flick straight to the puzzle page.  
"Anything interesting, Draco?" Lucius asked, finishing off his morning coffee. The ten-year-old glanced over the pages and shook his head.  
"Ah well. Have a good day with your mother, won't you?"  
Draco smiled, "We're going to Crabbe's house!"  
"Yes, I know. Do try not to disturb your mother as she talks things over with Mr Crabbe, won't you."  
"Yes, father."  
"I suppose you'll be having too much fun on the lad's broomstick," he laughed and ruffled Draco's hair as he nodded furiously.  
"Well, I am going to work now. Behave, won't you?"  
"Yes, father. Goodbye, father."  
He watched as Lucius left the room, then turned the pages of the Daily Prophet to page 12, getting a quill from his breast pocket ready for the word jumble. He watched as the letters 'T', 'E', 'G', 'R', 'I', 'O', 'P', 'L', 'S', 'T', and 'E', literally jumbled themselves on the page, turning themselves red if they were in the correct position. Draco was about to fill in the answer, when he noticed 'Harry Potter' printed in large font on the opposite page. Page 13. How ominous…

"HARRY POTTER VISITS ZOO WITH SURROGATE FAMILY"

Draco sighed. He'd visited the zoo not long ago, but did _he_ get his name in the paper?  
"Damn Potter," he muttered under his breath. He browsed the paper a bit longer finding nothing more interesting than some witch who had discovered an ant with three heads. Yawning heavily he turned back to page 13 and read aloud:  
"'_Harry Potter was sighted today at his local zoo with his uncle, aunt, cousin and, presumably, one of his close friends going by the name of Piers. Two eyewitnesses claim to have seen the young boy taking a particular interest in the boa constrictors. Could this early interest in snakes and serpents spell a spot in Slytherin house when he joins Hogwarts this year?_' I should bloody well hope not!" Draco exclaimed, taking a gulp of his freezing cold tea and shuddering. He skimmed further through the article, "Blah…blah…blah…ooh, '-_setting the snake loose and trapping Potter's cousin where the snake had once been_.'" Suddenly very interested, he went back a bit, "Blah, blah, yadda, yadda, '_One astute observer, Kataran Fudge (no relation of the Minister) states that he saw Potter talking to the snake before being knocked to the floor by his cousin, Dudley. Fudge goes on to say that the glass protecting the snake mysteriously vanished, ultimately setting the snake loose and trapping-_' woah!"  
Draco laid the paper down on the table with a sharp rustle and leaned back in his chair. Interesting stuff _always _happened to Potter. It seemed he couldn't go two days without being in the Daily Prophet. Draco was never in it. He'd been mentioned when he was first born, as the Malfoys were very well-known, and an addition to the family was big news. And he'd had his picture there when he'd been forced to take part in a humiliating parade at the age of seven, celebrating the two hundredth deathday of Emeric the Evil – frankly, he'd rather not be in the Prophet at all than be seen with a stupid, massive white-hat-that-was-supposed-to-resemble-a-cloud perched precariously on his head.

He got up from the table, leaving his dirty dishes and newspaper for one of the maids to clear up, and sat outside on a swing that was suspended in mid-air.  
"Mother!" he called.  
"Yes, Draco?" a voice replied faintly.  
"I'm booooooooooored! Can you help me practice some Defence Against the Dark Arts?"  
"In a minute, honey!"  
Draco exhaled and leaned his forehead against the swing's chain, being very careful not to trap any of his hair as he had done last time. He hated not being at school. He had never experienced school-life before, but he was sure it had to be better than this; stuck at home, waiting until his mother or father were free to supervise him as he practised magic. He was determined to be good when he first step into Hogwarts, as it would demand respect and adoration from fellow students. That's what he craved. That's what he needed. That respect and adoration would earn him his father's blessing, which was what Draco lived for.  
It was hard to win his father over.  
He had yet to learn just how hard.


	4. Chapter 3: The Letters from No One

**Author's note: **Third chapter…yeah…substantially longer than the last one, because this used to be the first chapter. R&R!

**Chapter 3  
****The Letters from No One**

Draco sat at the window, gazing out into the vast darkness that was the night sky.  
_It had to come today. Surely it had to come today.  
_It hadn't come for the past eleven years of his life, almost every morning of which had been spent sat at the same window looking at the same view waiting for the same thing.  
_Let it come today.  
_He'd had a falling out with his father the previous evening by questioning some of the Death Eaters' methods. Five minutes, one caning and no meals later, Draco was sitting in his room wondering what he could possibly do to make it up to his father. Well, nothing he could physically do would ever make anything up to his father; he was much too proud to accept feeble offerings from a puny eleven-year-old boy. Draco had then realised what one thing would make Lucius proud of him. A Hogwarts letter.  
_Please come today, I need it today_.  
He wished every morning that it would come, but that morning he wished doubly hard. He was up much earlier, too. 6am was the normal time, but he hadn't actually bothered sleeping that night, preferring to stay up and pray for that elusive parchment with a green ink address to Malfoy Manor. He'd heard so many stories of people getting their letters. Crabbe and Goyle had got theirs months ago; Pansy Parkinson, some kid he'd met at a Slytherin reunion and hadn't been able to shake off, had written to him to inform him of her letter; and it hadn't pleased Lucius one bit to know that Mudbloods and muggle-borns were getting their letters before his own son. Even Harry Potter's letter had just been sent. Draco tried to explain to his father that _of course_ the most famous wizard since Merlin would get his letter early, but he had been given the silent treatment again. Upon further pleading and begging for forgiveness, Lucius had started what turned out to be a very long lecture on the history of the Malfoys.  
It interested Draco to know that every single one of them had been in Slytherin (apart from his great-great aunt Hilda who had been put in Ravenclaw and therefore burnt out of the Malfoy family tapestry).  
"So stop wasting your energies on worrying about the letter, you stupid boy," Draco's father concluded, "And focus more on your destiny. Slytherin is your house. It is _our_ house. It is a crime if you are not put in Slytherin. And you know what happens to criminals."  
This was certainly something to aspire to. Not only did he have the anticipation of the letter, but now he had the house-sorting to think about. Millions of thoughts swirled around his mind as the sun rose over another owl-free morning.  
_Damn,_ Draco swore to himself. He looked at the clock on his wall: twenty past six. He suddenly became very aware that he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. After one final – and fruitless – check for owls, he slid under his covers and let the wave of exhaustion pass over him and send him to sleep.

* * *

"GYAH!" Draco woke with a start. Someone, probably his maid, had rapped very loudly on his door. Grumbling, he crawled out of bed and slipped on a dressing-gown. Flinging open the door with a sour expression, he prepared to have a very angry argument, "How _dare_ you wake me in such a manner, I've a good mind to-"  
He stopped when he realised he was talking to himself. He looked down the corridor each way seeing nothing but the portraits of his ancestors still asleep.  
"Who is there?" he called.  
One of the portraits awoke and mumbled, "Get back to bed with you, go on, leave us be."  
Draco pulled a face and slammed his door shut, extremely annoyed at missing out on two minutes extra sleep. No sooner had he turned around, another loud knocking noise echoed around his room. But it wasn't from the door. It was from the window. A Tawny owl has standing there, pecking impatiently at the stonework around the window, a letter wrapped tightly around its leg.  
"No way…" Draco whispered to himself. He shuffled towards the window and peered out, studying the letter. There it was, clear as crystal. Yellow parchment, green ink, and the words 'Mr D. Malfoy' printed carefully across the front. His heart skipped a beat and he felt a light fluttery feeling in his stomach. It wasn't until the owl pecked away a large section of the stone window sill that Draco actually opened it and let her in. He knew he should have been concerned with the damage the bird had done to the building, but all he cared about was that letter. He untied it eagerly and ripped open the envelope.

_Dear Mr Malfoy  
__We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
__Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
__Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
__Deputy Headmistress_

Draco let out the breath he had apparently been holding and dashed out of the room.

* * *

His hair was a mess, his eyes were dark from lack of sleep, and he wasn't dressed. His father wasn't best pleased to be woken with his son in this state. Draco bubbled with excitement as he thrust the letter into his father's hand. He read in silence then looked up. For a few cold seconds, Draco thought that his father was disgusted by this news. His facial expression hadn't changed and he wasn't saying a word. Then, without warning, Lucius extended a hand and patted him on the head.  
"Good," he said with a faint smile, folding the letter with one hand. Draco beamed; he so very rarely got praise from his father. Lucius gave a nod towards the woman lying next to him. Draco glanced at his mother and understood. He took the letter back and ran round to the other side of the bed.  
"Mother, Mother!" he yelled, "Wake up! I've got it! My Hogwarts letter, it came this morning!"  
Narcissa sat up groggily in bed, "Draco, darling, please, speak more slowly. Remember what I've taught you about eloquence."  
Draco cleared his throat, "Yes, Mother. Here is my Hogwarts letter. An owl delivered it this morning."  
He handed the letter to his mother who read it thoroughly.  
"Oh, Draco!" she cried, flinging her arms around him, "I am so proud of you. I'm so relieved you got in. I would have had to send you to Durmstrang otherwise, and I don't want you far away from me. Hogwarts is perfect! Oh, isn't it wonderful, Lucius?"  
Lucius leaned back against his pillow, "It is to be expected. Nothing to lose one's head over. Whilst you are there your actions shall determine whether you earn my pride or not."  
Draco's face fell slightly. He couldn't help but feel disappointed that on the most exciting day of his life his father still hadn't given his approval.  
"Still," his mother said in a 'let's-lighten-up-a-little' tone, "This is reason to celebrate. What do you say to a trip to Diagon Alley?"  
Draco smiled again, "Can I have a broom?"  
"Draco…"  
"Yes, I _know_ first-years aren't allowed one, but I really, really want one! I'll get tons of respect."  
"Draco, you are young and inexperienced."  
"I'm not!" he persisted, "You saw me playing Quidditch at Goyle's house!"  
"Yes I did, but I still think your own broomstick is a bad idea."  
"Oh, but Mother…"  
"Draco," his father intervened with his eleventh most threatening tone of voice, "If you want a broomstick, you should earn it. That's a life lesson, my boy. If you didn't earn it, don't accept it."  
Draco sighed, "Yes, Father."

He trawled back to his room to catch up on some sleep.  
"Got into Hogwarts, did you, boy?" one of the portraits asked. Draco looked up to see his great-great-great-great grandfather looking down at him.  
"Yes, sir."  
"Good boy. You'll be wanting to get into Slytherin house, of course."  
Draco nodded, "Of course."  
The portrait smiled, "Couldn't have it any other way, not as a Malfoy. And you make sure young Crabbe and Goyle get in there, too."  
"Crabbe and Goyle?" Draco asked, "Oh, I don't really care about them."  
The portrait chuckled, "You have a fine attitude for a Malfoy. But remember, confidantes can be invaluable. Never know when they might come in handy. Keep them close."  
"I will," said Draco, "But I'll keep my enemies closer."  
He strutted off down the corridor to his room as he heard his great-great- great- great grandfather talk to the portrait across the hall, "He's a Malfoy through and through, isn't he?"  
"Aye," said the other, "A tribute to the purebloods."  
Draco smiled and turned into his room. He stroked the owl that was still on his bed and gave her a few biscuits and a drop of water.  
"Thank you," he said to her before letting her out of the window.  
He clambered under the covers and once again drifted off into a slumber.


End file.
